“Good morning, Squeaky Pie!” said Momanita as she tugged the cover off my rolly cage. “Here are your Cheerios.”
“If the day needs to start, Cheerios is the best way to start it.”
I liked to sleep in.
Momanita pinched the oat circle between her fingers and passed it though the slats of my cage. I grasped it in my claws and pecked at it.
“Let’s head upstairs and write. It’s a good day for writing. It’s rainy,” said Momanita.
“You always think it’s a good day for writing.”
Rainy days were good for writing because it was too wet to garden outside.
Sunny days were good for writing because the sunshine inspired.
Snowy days were good for writing because it was cozy inside.
EVERY day was good for writing for one reason or another.
To other hootmans this sounded like squeals and whistles, but not to Momanita. She MOSTLY understood cockatiel speak. I MOSTLY understood hootman talk.
“Come along,” said Momanita, “I’ll carry you on my shoulder.”
I liked riding on Momanita’s shoulder. I felt like a pirate’s parrot.
I climbed out of my rolly cage onto her finger and scooted up her arm. Then I perched on her shoulder. She wore long shiny earrings that jingled when I pulled them. I clung to her T shirt with my claws and her earring with my beak. Since I can’t fly, I need to hang on tight.
“I’ll bring along your writing cage and a plastic cup of Cheerios.”
Momanita climbed the stairs to her writing nest. She placed my writing nest where I can see the computer screen. I climbed to my roof and thought about the Cheerios.
“I carried your Cheerios, you, and your writing nest up the stairs,” said Momanita. “I wonder how animals carry their food and babies? I wonder if they carry their homes.”
When Momanita wondered, she thought of questions.
When she thought of questions, she looked for answers.
When she looked for answers, she needed my help.
Momanita tapped at her keyboard.
I looked over her shoulder as she read.
Long Haul
“Animals carry food in different ways,” said Momanita.
“Chipmunk stuffs seeds and nuts in his cheek pouches.”
I watched Chipmunk under the birdfeeder from my window.
“Chipmunk gathers food to store for winter. When his pouches are full, his head looks three times as large.”
I wished I had cheek pouches to store Cheerios.
“Chipmunks carry seeds and this amazing bird carries water,” said Momanita. “The sandgrouse lives in dry areas. Before his chicks learn to fly he brings water back to the nest.”
“A grouse canteen?”
“The male sandgrouse flies up to 20 miles to a watering hole, wades into the water, and collects water in his belly feathers by rocking back and forth. When he returns, the chicks squeeze the water out of his feathers to drink.”
“It IS a grouse canteen!”
A water carrying sandgrouse was almost as amazing as a blog writing cockatiel.
Bringing Baby Along
“I carried you on my shoulder,” said Momanita. “Alligator moms carry their babies in their mouths.”
“There’s lots of scary teeth in there!”
“Alligator moms lay 20-50 eggs in covered nests that they’ve built on land. When the eggs start to hatch, the babies make noise. The mom hears them and uncovers the nest. Then she carries 2 or 3 to the water at a time.”
What looked scary to me, looked safe to the hatchlings.
“Cygnets, baby swans, ride on their mother’s back while she swims,” said Momanita. “The cygnets learn how to swim and what to eat while they are passengers. It’s also a way to move them to safety if needed.”
A swan’s feathery back looked more comfortable than an alligator’s mouth.
Close To Home
“Animals carry food, water, and babies. Some animals carry their homes,” said Momanita.
“I couldn’t carry my rolly cage or writing nest.”
“A hermit crab finds an empty seashell to live in. Sometimes he hollows it out so that it’s a better fit. As he crawls, he drags his home along. The shell protects him. When he outgrows the shell, he needs to find another one.”
I’m glad I didn’t outgrow my rolly cage.
“Hermit crabs carry their homes ON their bodies, and spiders carry their homes IN their bodies,” said Momanita.
“It must be a really tiny home. Spiders are small.”
“Spiderwebs are built from silk that is produced in the spider’s spinneret. It makes threads that are different sizes. Some are sticky and some are not. The sticky ones catch insects. The others are for the spider to walk on.”
I can’t spin a home, but I can spin a story.
“This is so fascinating, Squeaks,” said Momanita. “Should we write about how animals carry food and water and babies and homes?”
I thought about my full food dish, my rolly cage, and perching on Momanita’s shoulder.
“Let’s write about how all of us need food, shelter and love to survive and that we can help those who don’t have those things.”
To other hootmans this sounded like squeals and whistles, but not to Momanita. She MOSTLY understood cockatiel speak. I MOSTLY understood hootman talk.
Check out Momanita’s book OPERATION HOPPER.
Momanita and I read about spiderwebs. You should read about them, too.
Anita Borgo 